


Crimson and Clover

by deathwailart



Series: Morgaine Trevelyan [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Semi-Public Sex, Tribadism, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 19:54:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3086798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathwailart/pseuds/deathwailart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winter Palace is a trial, especially when Cassandra Pentaghast hasn't the appetite for politics that Morgaine Trevelyan has, but she still admires how the Inquisitor gets things done even if there are things she would <i>much</i> rather be doing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crimson and Clover

It is difficult to know what to make of Morgaine Trevelyan and the red slash of her smile, only her lips yield under Cassandra's when she kisses her and that when her long black hair is freed from the braids and pins that hold it up and away from her face she lets Cassandra tangle her fingers in it but it's still Morgaine who bares the long pale column of her throat for lips and teeth. She loves her, admires her, calls her friend but sometimes she does wonder how it came to be though she knows she would change nothing.  
  
Morgaine knows politics and how to utilise them for all that she admits she doesn't care for them. It's necessary, she tells Cassandra, to play their games and to know the steps to each dance. Leliana told Cassandra all that she knew back at Haven and Morgaine has confirmed that she was involved in the Fraternities in the Circle. Lucrosians, of course, even if political power is more important than money in the Circle; as a daughter of nobility in a sedate Circle like Ostwick, it would have been easy for her to keep her family connections close. You catch more flies with honey and vinegar, to which Cassandra mutters 'bullshit' and Morgaine just laughs and leans over to kiss the disgust from her mouth. _There's more than one way to fight a war,_ she murmurs when she tucks one soft hand into Cassandra's elbow – a deceptive hand, it's a hand that can summon fire and ice, a hand that raises the dead – when they're approaching the Winter Palace to deal with the Orlesian situation. She looks small and delicate next to Cassandra even with Cassandra out of her armour and she knows it's an act and though she detests politics, it's hard not to admire just how good at it she is, Morgaine thick as thieves with Josephine and Leliana both. Her lips are not blood red at the Winter Palace as they usually are, her eyes not so thickly outlined in black, the blush on her cheeks soft enough to turn her into a delicate maiden. They likely see the way she grits her teeth as she plays their games but she plays it well enough, gathering blackmail material to slip into Leliana's hands so it is never forgotten.  
  
The Inquisition is not cruel but beneath the honeyed words and delicate touches there is steel and it is not always a blade in the dark or Cullen's forces.  
  
Cassandra dances with her despite hating this place and wishing to be rid of it when she finds the hero of the night alone, the witch sauntering past with a little smile. Cassandra wants to do a hundred other things that include kissing Morgaine senseless, pressing her against a wall where they're hidden behind a column with one of her strong thighs between the inquisitor's, kissing her until her lips are red, her cheeks flushed and her hair a mess. Morgaine would let her if she hadn't worked so hard tonight to cultivate just the right persona, reuniting an empress and her lover, sentencing Gaspard to execution and Florianne too.  
  
Morgaine cannot abide traitors after all.  
  
Still, it's just them, out on the balcony and when she presses close when they're done dancing, everyone else either busy or having the sense to give them privacy, Morgaine takes the hand Cassandra has wrapped around her hip, sliding it down. Cassandra says nothing but she's the one who gasps when Morgaine moves so her hand slips between her legs, the long skirts of her dress in the way but she bucks into her hand. They shouldn't. If Cassandra didn't push her up against a wall to have her wicked way with her then they should have restraint but the balcony is private and they can be discreet. Still, she moves them both into the corner where they're more hidden as Morgaine gathers up the skirts, cursing at them quietly but they manage and Cassandra swears louder than she intends when there are no undergarments to get in the way.  
  
"You planned this!" She hisses, Morgaine only smirking, wrapping a hand around her wrist.  
  
"You object?"  
  
"I never said that."  
  
She's quick but careful, her thumb on Morgaine's clit, two fingers slipping in and they both moan softly, Morgaine's head falling forward. They don't have time and it's the thought of being caught – the thrill of it, if Cassandra is honest – that spurs her to use every trick that she can, limited though they are by the dress that's just about out of the way and the awkward bend of her wrist. In the end she lets Morgaine do the work, little thrusts of her hips, Cassandra rubbing circles with her thumb until she hears the tell-tale little strangled gasp that Morgaine always makes before she bites her lip, her fingers like an iron band around Cassandra's wrist. She loses control of her magic for a moment, finger marks of frost but Cassandra just laughs and kisses her cheek until they can get their breath back.  
  
Throughout the goodbyes she's certain everyone must know but she can barely bring herself to care, not with the heat between her legs and of _course_ Morgaine decides to take her time getting ready for bed once they return to the rooms Josephine arranged prior to their return to Skyhold in the morning.  
  
"I wish you had worn ceremonial armour," Morgaine tells her once she's washed off her makeup and removed her earrings and shoes. "I like stripping you out of it."  
  
"Perhaps when we win," Cassandra tells her, stepping up behind to unfasten her necklace before she starts plucking out all the little pins in her hair, leaning forward to kiss her cheek. "I think I would rather get you out of this dress."  
  
"You can cut me out of if you'd like, I don't plan on wearing something like _that_ again." Her mouth is a moue of distaste as she looks at herself in the mirror.  
  
"Then why did you-" Cassandra cuts herself off, rolling her eyes when Morgaine smiles. Part of the act but now she wishes she knew what she might have worn if she'd been free to choose, picturing all the black and red and gold she favours and it's a thought. She guides Morgaine to her feet though, pulls her close with a smile and Morgaine laughs, hands curling at the lapels of Cassandra's coat as she slips free a small knife, not dissimilar to the one Morgaine usually keeps at her thigh. It's easy to slice through the lacing, Morgaine gasping as her eyes go wide, only a hint of blue and a flush creeps up her neck.  
  
She only planned to cut the lacings but she angles the knife and holds Morgaine's chin steady with her thumb and two fingers so she can't look away as she drags the blade up, delicate fabric tearing as Morgaine barely dares to breathe. She cuts in one long fluid motion until she reaches the neckline and thinks for a moment of those terrible, awful books and tries not to laugh, not wanting to ruin the moment but she's never actually ripped (this is close enough to count, she thinks) someone out of their bodice and all the descriptions were right, Morgaine's chest is certainly heaving. One flick of the wrist and the dress is cut open and she sheathes the blade to peel it back, Morgaine biting her lip as she shivers at the gentle touch. Usually it's the other way around, Morgaine the one doing the romancing because she wants to and because she says Cassandra deserves it, one of the very few who sees Morgaine's soft side but tonight she wants to be in charge after watching Morgaine make it look so easy, running around as if she owned the Orlesian court. In a way, she does now and it's a heady thought as she continues to push the dress down until Morgaine is bare before her, the remains of the dress a puddle at her feet.  
  
"Were you planning something at the palace, more than what happened on the balcony?" She asks breathlessly but there's no answer except for fingers at the fastenings of her coat.  
  
"We've ensured that Celene will have more balls to come," the other woman says at last as Cassandra walks her back to the bed, "you can make it up to me then."  
  
"I plan on it."  
  
"So now you get to have your wicked way with me Seeker," she teases, leaning up for a kiss before Cassandra moves to strip out of her own clothes, not caring the state they end up because usually she folds them no matter how much of a rush they're in, something Morgaine protests about loudly and at length normally, allowing Morgaine to grab her hand and tug her down to the bed as soon as she's within reach.  
  
"You don't think it should be the other way around? After all-"  
  
Morgaine cuts her off by rolling them over, warm hands sliding up Cassandra's ribs to cup her breasts, the barest touch of fingertips over the underside and Cassandra's breath leaves her in a rush. "Is this more to your liking?" She has the gall to smile innocently – as innocently as someone like Morgaine can – before she's lowering her head to take one of her nipples into her mouth and Cassandra arches up, swearing. Morgaine's mouth is warm but her fingers are cold on Cassandra's other nipple and she presses her thighs together, forgetting how to speak. When Morgaine stops, her lips are curled in satisfaction but she's just as breathless as Cassandra, fingers sliding back down, over her belly and Cassandra laughs, squirming away when it tickles. She expects Morgaine to part her thighs and kiss her way down but instead she stops.  
  
Not only does she stop, she rises up on her knees and gives Cassandra a look of consideration, her smile distracted when she hears the groan Cassandra lets out.  
  
"What is it?" She asks, unable to hide the note of irritation because unlike Morgaine, she's been left wanting since leaving the Winter Palace.  
  
"Lie back," Morgaine urges, arranging the pillows so one is beneath Cassandra's neck and shoulders, the other behind Morgaine.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
"I wanted to try something, I think you'll like it. If you don't? We stop, we do something else." She smiles and leans forward, the kiss she offers chaste and sweet but reassured, Cassandra nods and allows Morgaine to direct her carefully. Her thighs are nudged apart and Morgaine settles between them, encouraging Cassandra to take hold of the leg that's bent and pressing against her side and belly and she understands, suddenly finding it difficult to swallow. She knows about this, has imagined it, but that's one thing, it's another entirely to have Morgaine so close, watching her like a hawk and then to suddenly have the weight and heat of her there. She bucks her hips instinctively, the sensation not unlike what they've done before, but then it was always a thigh and usually they're clothed, stolen moments around Skyhold or when they're undressing, it's about teasing. This is bare skin, closer than they've ever been like this and she clutches at Morgaine's thigh, pulling her even closer as she tries to find a rhythm with her; the confidence in her movements suggesting that she's done this before.  
  
It's too much in the end. She's been waiting too long, it's too new, it's the way Morgaine looks and feels against her, one of the rare moments when she drops her guard and she isn't performing, her hair wild and sticking to her cheeks, barely able to catch her breath, the heat and feel of her and Cassandra is coming with a shout, nails digging into Morgaine's thigh. Morgaine stills against her, letting Cassandra ride out her orgasm, biting her lip so hard it's a wonder it's not bleeding. Cassandra tries to get her breath back to offer a hand but then Morgaine is moving on her own and she practically sobs, unsure how much more she can take but Morgaine cries out and her rhythm falters, hips jerking wildly. She falls back against her pillow, satisfied smile on her face but even so, it's a while before she moves, throwing her pillow and almost hitting Cassandra in the face with it as she wriggles back up the bed, head on Cassandra's shoulder. No one else gets to see her like this, unguarded and relaxed, not wearing some sort of mask or being whatever she needs to be for any particular situation and she tips her face up for a kiss Cassandra is happy to give her.  
  
"I love you," she says and Cassandra smiles, brushing Morgaine's hair back.  
  
"I love you too. But you can explain the dress to Josephine yourself."  
  
Morgaine laughs, her real honest laugh that's snortier than the public one, pulling Cassandra closer, her hands warm this time. She might never know Morgaine entirely, always trying to figure out her motivations, the decisions she makes, wondering how far ahead she has to plan but she has Morgaine's trust and her love, perhaps that is enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Fuck the Winter Palace formal outfits, if Shepard can be in a dress and go get changed to fight then that's how all my inquisitors and companions roll.


End file.
